


Put your head on my shoulder

by PetitAmour



Category: Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Movies)
Genre: And a big reason is from putting with Koba and life besides them popping up out of nowhere, Especially ones who look like they'd kill you even when they are passed out, F/M, Masturbation, NSFW ONLY IN CHAPTER 1 currently, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader kind of suffers from chronic headaches/migraines, Song Inspired, You shouldn't try and save strays, accidental slowburn, may continue into War, post-Dawn of The Apes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitAmour/pseuds/PetitAmour
Summary: You should know better than to be nice in the growing dystopia/ape-pocalypse, and now you suffer the consequences that are a human-hating ape who youknowdreams of murdering you, a growing romantic relationship with said ape, and a war that grows louder and bloodier with each passing day.It's a good thing you hoard painkillers for this bullshit.
Relationships: Caesar/Cornelia/Koba (Planet of the Apes 2011), Caesar/Koba (Planet of the Apes 2011), Koba/Reader, mentioned:
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. You and I will fall in love

He hates it when you take long baths and showers. It’s one of the millions of things he despises since you’ve taken him in. The moment he awoke from his comatose state to see you entering the house, the Bonobo instantly wanted to tear your throat out and it showed. From there it was all downhill, and now it’s in a state of limbo that the both of you suspect may begin something  _ akin  _ to Stockholm Syndrome. Two months, teetering on three, have passed since you dragged his body into your truck, drove him to this abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, and bandaged him up; the latter due to what you called a ‘  _ Healing and Mending Bones 101: For Dummies  _ ’ found in a CVS. It’s technically not ‘the middle of nowhere’, it’s a small town, but twenty odd houses scattered around the area, ten stores, and one gas station is nothing compared to the bustling city below. 

But you digress, and who could blame you when there is an evolved ape downstairs most likely planning your death. You left him to eat the broth you made for his lunch, hoping the book was right and getting the needed nutrients would heal him faster. The moment he can  _ limp  _ outside is when you’ll leave him for good, allowing yourself to take this new lesson to heart: never take pity on a stray bleeding out. Fuck that, it’s survival of the finish out here, and you’ve wasted more than enough time and supplies on this one. You’re already low on painkillers and that is what you’ve valued the most since major medicine has ceased to make more -- it’s the only way you can survive your body pains, and the migraines this asshole’s attitude brings. 

The main thing here though is the fact that you know he is seething down there. You have little idea why that is, because there is no way he knows what you're doing other than bathing. Unlike him you don’t just groom yourself clean, and if simians took fast washes in the water, well he knows you are human. You like to scrub away the dirt and grime of the apocalypse despite it not being needed anymore, but he probably wants you down there to make sure he heals faster. It’s not like he enjoys you helping him anyways, every time you do  _ anything  _ \-- give him food, help him to the restroom or outside, change his bandages -- he does nothing but glare at you. His half-milky stare with that curl of his lips to show off his inhuman sharp ivories. It’s not only when you near him, but also as you go about your day trying to survive. Cross the floor, go in and outside, sit around to pass the time, just live, his burning gaze creates holes in your back. If looks could kill… Oh, and  _ definitely  _ when you give him the painkillers do you feel all the malice in him reverberate into you. His fur stands on end, looking like he’ll attack there and then, and he hisses like a cat. But it doesn’t stop him from playing his little games to make you uncomfortable, holding out his large palm for you to drop the two pills into and shooting a slasher-grin. You are always hesitant to hover your closed fist -- gripping the capsules over his open hand -- because once you do he snatches them away just to see you flinch. Asshole. 

You do your best to ignore him, and bathing time is part of it. Like you thought before: there is no way he knows what you're doing other than bathing. He can’t  _ possibly  _ know that you're masturbating in the warm water. Laying back against the porcelain tub, one hand is dipped under the water, parting the bubbles you added for aesthetic. Your other hand is at your chest, urging your arousal higher and higher to finally release and go lax. With what is going on in your head though, it’s harder -- doesn’t help at all. You’ve heard the xenophobes say that apes can smell humans twenty feet away, especially women. You know that is the most stupidest thing ever said, and the fact that it more often than not is said by men only makes it twice as so; the women on the other hand hit the conservative side of things, but they make better sense at least: it is wrong to lay with an animal, and the latter do not know any better. Which you find logically sound in thought, if not crazy to even think about. Yet, your mind reasons even against that: they’re evolved, they are mutants now, who  _ speak,  _ who have their own society that is mimicking humanity’s. Are they even apes anymore? Or what humans define as one when they’re walking upright, bearing weapons,  _ riding horseback  _ , and having homes that Koba once claimed were akin to huts and tree-houses.

The asshole downstairs can’t possibly smell your arousal. You don’t know much about apes, or any other animals to be frank, but it sounds ridiculous.

Finally your mind shuts up, allowing you to lay your hand between your clenching thighs. You are quick at pulling in the pleasure with skilled fingers, eliciting warm bolts of pleasure to pool and flourish through your veins. Each swipe tickles underneath your skin, causing your torso to shudder and shoulders to shake. With your eyes closed you can imagine you are not in the middle of the apocalypse, but rather your home, empty and open to your desires. Fingers cross over to roll your nipple as well -- the little ball pebbling in no time. It’s like this you are left with lips gently parted and low, small gasps spilling from your throat. 

You’re sex is throbbing, demanding to be filled, but you want to edge yourself. You clench a few times to taunt your body about your hole being empty. Now  _ you  _ feel ridiculous, only saved from cringing because no one is there to judge you. So without someone to make you stop, you decide to reward yourself for all your hard work. Sliding your fingers down your shape and over sensitive nerves, igniting the flames of desire up you swollen sex. You don’t stop, no matter how needy you feel, because that would be too easy. There’s a tight bow that is your growing desire, and the farther you pull it back -- no matter how much it stings up your throbbing body -- the better your release will be. You want to hit that mark and writhe in sweet ecstasy -- one of the few escapes from your life.

You are so caught up in the dizzying passion, you fail to hear the door creak open and shut close. 

“You are annoying.”

Startled, you jolt forward, water sloshing over the tub and onto the floor. Quickly you slam your legs shut and curl the hand between your thighs into a fist -- covering yourself from any prying eyes. Beside you is the very bastard who almost killed your sexual high not ten minutes ago. You did not realize how hot the water truly was until now, steam creating a thin layer over his burly form. He isn’t happy with a snarl pulling his lips back. His bad eye is hard to see in the under the light mist, but his green one glows, and the furrow of his heavy brow is all too discernible. They are turned on you, glowering over your face as though you have insulted  _ him  _ when he is the one barging into private rooms.

You look down on yourself, which you regret because you can see the bubbles are starting to melt. The white foam traces around the shape of your floating breast in a thick pile, but beyond that it's a dubious path over your lower body. There are missing chunks where the water is clear showing your sitting body at odd intervals. Self-conscious and feeling the burn of humiliation spread through your cheeks, your legs press to your chest, your free arm wraps around them, and shoulders rise like a turtle into its shell. You glare right back, not only since he barged in on mid “you time”, but he has the  _ audacity  _ to call you annoying.

“Fuck you, get the hell out of here!”

“Have tried...but  _ hurt  _ \-- remember?”

Is he playing games with you now? At an inappropriate time like this? He isn’t giving you that horrifying grin, so he must be something of serious -- snarky really.

“Leave the damn bathroom!”

“You are. Too damn.  _ Annoying!  _ ” He growls, jutting his furry mug forward in your face. It is there as both sets of eyes begin a battle of heated frowns that his begin to wander down. Over the valley of your glistening chest and mound of bubbles shrouding the downward plane leading towards the dip of your thighs. There’s much to be seen with the flattening suds, enough that you have no doubt he’s seen more than you’d ever let anyone on a third date would see.

With your coiled arm, you splash water onto him. “You’re the one who barged in here! You’re the annoying one!”

He didn’t like that. His snarl turns into a side-curl, and he takes one, long blink before narrowing his eyes. He looks like he’s contemplating the best way to kill you fast without hearing your cries. The room is now heavy with what you believe is dangerous tension of the murdering sort, angry electricity flashing between you and the ape, but then…he tilts his head and humor mixes into the scowl, lifting it up into a mocking smile.

“You are not aware...you  _ reek  _ .”

And to your horror, you have a gut feeling to what he means. The irony stops your heart, turning your body cold in the warm bath water. Your wide-eyes and sharp intake of breath must amuse him, because a dry, curt chuckle shakes his shoulders, merging with his cruel smile in the most sadistic way. It’s not a slasher-grin, but it’s not any less frightful.

“Stupid woman.” 

You open your mouth to curse him out, but he continues. “All humans. Do this often. As you?”

The strain in his voice echoes. You haven’t heard him speak this much since he first woke up demanding answers. Never did you try getting him to use his voice, knowing from his own words that it hurt. His vocal cords -- all of the apes’ apparently -- were still growing stronger, and only few of them could speak clearly. He was one of them, yet he still understandably preferred Sign Language, which you knew little to nothing of.

“It’s none of your damned business!” Your curl up tighter, unsure how to get him to leave any faster.

“Other humans. Must all be. Dead. That’s why.” 

He snorts, then it falls into a dry laugh. Realization of what he means hits you like a low blow. You’d rather not think about whether or not your species has dug itself deeper into their grave -- the existential dread only holds you back from surviving. And your love life is hardly worth your time anymore. The apocalypse has pushed it away from your mind, whether you were aware of it or not. Now you are being taunted by this bastard of an ape, all because -- despite not caring about finding a partner -- you are only human and have bodily needs that fortunately can be satisfied by yourself. 

“Get out, get out, get out!” You splash more water on him, not daring to rise and attempt to push at him. There is no doubt he won’t budge when he is so wide with primal strength. Knowing it is a lost cause to get physical, and seeing that your yelling is doing nothing, the blood in your veins begin to boil. You feel helpless in this situation, as opposed to all the times you’ve felt powerful while helping him -- who could not even stand a few hours ago. Hating to admit it, deep down you were aware of a “savior” complex that drove you to help him. As if healing a pitiful creature would bring you good karma in this desolate new world -- this growing ape world. Now he is up the stairs, in the bathroom, and mocking you in what was supposed to be a private moment.

“At Least I wasn’t left to die out in the middle of nowhere!” Without a thought to it, your body turns to rise on your knees. Body curled over, arms tight around your breasts, fist still between your thighs, you mimic his snarl to give him a taste of his own medicine. “I can join a community whenever I please! You on the other hand are **_alone_** !”

That hit the mark, and where you would have felt a cocky smirk raise your spirits, you instead feel your heart stop once more and fall into the pit that is your stomach. To say he looks pissed is an understatement. You may have thought he was contemplating ways of killing you before, but now you know he has chosen one and is ready to act on it. 

You’ve heard “if looks could kill”, but you never truly knew it until now. The heavy brow of an ape is not far from a human’s, or so you’ve come to realize. You may have only thought so because of the mutation thriving through his veins, changing his features to evolve into something more ‘human’, but now you know for whatever the cause of it is true. Because there is Koba, whose shadow is heavy over you, and his canines are bared in their entirety. If that does not strike fear in you, then the way his entire torso heaves as he pants steaming breathe, the fur over his body stands on end, and how his fists tighten at his sides sure as hell do. There is no mistaking the danger you are on in.

The tension is thick, more so than what is left of the bathtub steam. It suffocates you with no end in sight, until, finally, he reaches a hand toward the water and creates a large splash. You are taken aback as it slaps you in the face, stopping your breath and causing you to topple over backwards onto your ass. When your eyes snap back open he is stomping out of the room, slamming the door shut hard enough that the door frame rattles. 

All you can mutter is: “ _ Jackass  _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially this song inspired caesar/koba ideas, but I decided its just good koba love jams. there wont be a lot of quick updates, meant to be one shots all connected.  
> Comments really help the most in getting me off my ass to write


	2. love's a game

There was  _ nothing _ worse than being brought back to life by your worst enemy. No beating, no bullying, and no millions of needles jabbed in him could compare, but the latter was close because in the end both were done by the very enemy he loathed:  _ humans. _ You had healed him without asking, nor a decent reason besides wanting to play ‘hero’. He hates every minute of every day since waking with you watching over him. The only solace he finds in the situation is one day being rid of you and healed so he can take a blunt weapon to finish you off. He hopes you do not think your days together will soften him up. Because they won't.

You had left the the house in your stupid hoody and backpack almost a hour ago, claiming to go for a store raid. The house is hardly in need of supplies besides more pain killers, so he can guess you mainly didn't want to be near him. You have been like this since he intruded on your bathing rituals only a week ago (from what time he can decipher between medicated naps). It has affected you in a way he had not expected, but nonetheless enjoyed. Leaving him to rest without your presence bothering him, but it also backfires, because he does not do well alone. 

No matter how much he likes to pretend and lie to everyone (including himself) that he is a loner at his core, Koba is not. It’s in his nature to be social, to enjoy having a hand to hold, to want to talk to someone, almost  _ anyone _ . It's what finally made him snap all those years ago. He craves company, no matter how much he puts on a facade -- one that had slowly begun to lessen. Slowly but surely, with Caesar’s kind words and gentle touches, the anger had begun melting. It had been so long since anyone had hugged him, yet Caesar did so with no hesitation and never stopped; the gesture grew when Cornelia did the same, and later when Blue Eyes was born and Koba was then an uncle . He could remember not only the physical contact, but the cozy feeling of being with all his people, safe and happy in their sanctuary...

He shouldn’t be here, should have been left to either rest and heal alone or die out in the woods where he belonged. The last of his memories told him he had pushed the wreckage off after falling to his ‘death’. The agonizing torment of pushing away when he had come to, then the limping out of view, away from his fellow apes. He saw a congregation of them on his way out, their masses creating a holy path to Caesar. Their king was in every sense his title, with light filtering from the broken roof over his form. A second of pause left Koba feeling an ache, one that tugged at him to join the others and accept Caesar as their leader once again. To bow and raise his hand demurely for the powerful ape to brush with his own -- warm and gentle like a strong breeze. But he didn’t.

Being alone was a cursed time, though not enough to want you back in the house. Where his mind went one direction, it also went another, and that was far more degrading than whatever once happy memory could hurt him with. Because you were there, glaring at him in that tub. Your burning glare had shown him a side of you thought to have never existed. It had been so strong, he had felt a smidgen of fear for a second too. The way your own brow furrowed deeply and your eyes darkened with anger. The image flashed over and over again in his mind, bringing an odd emotion that was shockingly not hatred. Whatever it may be, he did not like it. A paranoid thought of perhaps he was softening up sent a small panic through him each time, and he forced the thoughts from his mind.

His mind finally wandered to what he had done. It was no use wishing he could have done things differently, had planned out his coup better. Perhaps not even stage it, because in the end, Koba loved the other ape even after his humiliation at the generator. It was not solely Caesar fault, it was the humans, who had re-awakened the king’s love for them while simultaneously re-awakening Koba’s hatred -- his  _ fears _ .

A voice in his head claimed that showing Caesar the weapons beyond the red bridge would have convinced him, and Koba added that idea to his lists of stupid failures. Then another claimed that letting the humans fix their little machine and leave would have been wiser, more mature, but he shut that idea down quickly. The humans could not be trusted and the other apes were easily fooled. They did not know the true horrors humans could enact on them all.

Whether it was the painkillers or onslaught of thoughts that made his stomach turn and throat begin to fill with bile, Koba tries to fight it. He hates vomiting and has done enough of it in the labs.

When you came gasping through the door, looking like you had just ran all the way back, he swallowed whatever was there. Your eyes are wild and skin glistening with sweat.

“We have to leave --  _ now _ .”


	3. Chapter 3

You don't  _ legally _ own your ford truck. The DMV has been down for years (thank God), and you  _ technically  _ stole it about two years ago from an empty driveway. The large size has been the biggest reason you survived so long after leaving your colony, carrying supplies and driving over any terrain you must cross. The paint job is black, perfect for hiding when the moon rises, and the upholstery is a comfy nylon material that does not have your thighs sticking to the seats, nor heats up if parked under the sun. The mile per gallon is not bad either, even when you step on it, you can go a few weeks without needing to find fuel. Perfect when you never know when you will find a station or trader who has gas. Overall, a nice steal.

You refer to it as ‘Babe’, sometimes ‘The Babe’, for fun. It has yet to let you down, but you know that is more on your part on acting like a mechanic. You have learned a thing or two on fixing up the truck, hitting up whatever mechanic garage you pass by. Whatever the case, Babe is big, fast, and getting you away from the danger you saw a few hours ago. You are far from the main roads, having decided to drive over grassy mountains once fenced off. It is open terrain now, the fences having long been taken to be used or melted down by looters.

As a kid you always wondered why those fences were there in the first place; who owned the land and wanted no one walking in? Now you kind of understand, or felt like you did. This may not be the reason, but you sure as hell want at least a few of those fences back, because roaming all over the grass were cattle. In the years since the outbreak, the dwindling numbers of humans -- especially those who did not want to travel too far and possibly be killed -- had welcomed not only the overgrowth of nature, but it’s creatures as well. No one to herd or slaughter them for food the likes of cows and goats were thriving. There would be no more Big Macs or Whoppers sold anymore.

You did your best to maneuver Babe around them, jerking left and right to avoid a collision that would hurt not only the cattle, but the car. You had no tools or necessary parts to fix the truck, even before the move you lacked them, hence the extra bump in the ride. You keep a tight grip on the wheel, but beside you Koba merely slumps down. Neither of you are motion sick, but you can tell he is some pain -- each of his stitches and healing bones jostling.

“Hit it.”

Your face curls up, side-eyeing the ape. “Excuse me?”

“Hit the beast.”

“I’m not hurting the cows.” 

He bares a sliver of sharp fangs, returning the side-eye glance. You are already back to staring ahead, but you still frown, feeling that familiar cold glare.

“Coward.”

“If I’m gonna kill a beast, I’ll just leave you here for the wolves.” The tone in your voice is one you do not remember ever needing this much. It is the only way to get through to him though, matching his rough voice and growls in your one way. 

His face turns to lay a milky gaze on you. He does not appear angry, eyes wide with a wild gleam in them. He even dares to smile like a human, but you know that the gesture is fake. It looks horrible on his features so close yet so far from being completely human or ape. Like a caterpillar who left it’s cocoon before finishing it’s transformation. 

“Do it then.”

Oh how dangerous it is for him to utter such words to you, a mere human way in over her head. Somehow there is still a tender voice, one which tells you to not to take his words to heart, but then there is a tired voice, daring you to reach over, push the passenger door open, and shove him out. The mental image of a furry ball rolling out and left in the dust is a nice reward,...but you don’t do it. You keep your eyes on the road instead, tightening your jaw while mauving past cows, goats ,and the rare bull -- which is honestly the weirdest thing besides an evolved ape taunting you, because bulls don’t usually come this far down? Was there a farm close enough for them to make their way towards the bay.

It’s a long road trip with the worst carpool companion ever.

Everything fell into blissful silence with a few bleats and “moo's” here, and jangling of the wheels there. It leaves you time to go over the game plan, but aloud so you can hear how it truly sounds, and get some feedback from your patient. Well, what little grunts he would give, anyways.

“Ok, we’re heading south of San Francisco,”

“Of red bridge.” 

You purse your lips; you don’t know what you expected of his knowledge. Yes he could talk, slowly growing his vocabulary and learning how to pronounce them, but what else? Was he aware of living on a planet and where everything was? Did he even know there was more than California out in the world?

“Yes...hey, what do you know about the Earth?”

He looks annoyed, rolling his eyes as if it is the most ridiculous question. It takes a second which you assume is him not deigning it worth answering, then he sighs. “Planet. Earth. Many places. Live  _ here. _ ” And he lays both palms flat towards his lap.

“More places. Out there. Like warm home. Of wild apes. Where mother was. Born.” 

“Oh...was she a captured ape?”

He did not answer. “Red bridge connect. Ape home. Human home.”

“You guys escaped to the woods on it.” You smile fondly, remembering the news coverage of it ten years ago. At the time it had been horrifying. The apes barging into building and climbing them in their flee towards The Golden Gate Bridge. There had been glass left over for days, the city taking their sweet time (per usual) in getting anything done about the streets. The bridge did not fare any better, littered with blood, bullets, dead bodies of apes, and a million cars is disarray. It was a whole month before anyone could pass through it or even get their car if it still could move.

“Yes, fun day.” Koba snickers, positively proud of himself.

You wait for him to continue, only to find that is all he has to say after a minute of silence. “Ok, well that's basic enough. It’ll do, I’ll just teach you as we go along.”

He’s back to his bad mood, turning his head to look out his window; you’re not sorry for pretty much calling him stupid. Why would you when he’s been difficult with you, and you are quite positive he would kill you were it not for his wounds. You deserve to be an asshole right back to him.

“So yeah, the red bridge is the Golden Gate Bridge, and it connects what you said. We’re about to pass it right now -- you see it coming up?”

You know he does, refusing to speak. Your eyes flash to him, watching his body begin to go lax. As you drive onward you too see the big red monument come into better view. You are too far to see any movement below, but in the surrounding bay are two large ships that billow with smoke. Instantly your heart begins to race, anxiety tightening your muscles and turning your knuckles whiter than they already were. 

“That’s where they must have come from….”

“The soldiers.” Koba murmurs, lifting his back off the seat to peer through the window. He is right too, and your mind flashes to the moment you saw two of them near the liquor store. Like a horror movie you had crouched behind the register and waited as they walked by, unaware of anyone being nearby. It benefited you, because they spoke a bit about what was going on in the city -- of the army in search of apes to slaughter.

You inform him that he can roll down his window by cranking the lever by his feet, so he does, leaning his head outside -- fur pressing back as the wind whips through it.

“Hate the military, especially _that_ one, full of brainwashed people who aren't even treated right when they come back home from their service.” Your voice is strained, choosing to focus on the path ahead. By now you’ve passed the bigger herds and even the grassy plains, able to breath a smidgen easier about the drive.

Koba does not reply -- big shocker, you sarcastically think -- and only continues to follow the shrinking view of The Golden Gate Bridge. He lifts further and further up to watch it move behind the car, and though you can not see his face, you know this is important to him. He’s leaving his home, both in the woods and in the city, unsure whether or not he’ll ever come back. You can understand in some way how he may feel, allowing him silence to mourn.

The two of you continue your drive: your hands loosening on the wheel, while Koba lays his head on his flat and bent arm at the window’s edge. Away from San Francisco, and further into The Bay Area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps you've seen Alpha-Omega before? Those poor fools :c


	4. Chapter 4

He’s sure you are lost. Not only because of the face you keep making, but above your heads are signs you keep squinting at, as if that will get rid of the graffitti. Loud, wild, words mixed with images that any fool could recognize as apes. None of it is kind: ‘X’ marks for eyes or completely over faces, and barbaric words he wished to be unreadable. There they are though, and here he is, growing restless as each minute passes by. Fortunately he is no longer sick, now on a smooth road, yet a different kind of sickness plants itself into his heart. 

Caesar once described it as ‘Homesickness’, where one longs for where they were raised -- the people they were raised by and with. At the time Koba laughed at the notion, smart enough to know his childhood in a facility was unnatural, and his time trained for entertainment was vile abuse. But he knew that long ago — before he was torn from that place where Mary smiled and mother held him — would have been a different story. A child who was barely smart enough for sign language, who was not aware his mother had been beaten to death, torn from that last human who was nice enough to at least think of him as a  _ ‘pet’ _ — Koba would have enjoyed the word then. Now, on the road away from what had been paradise, Koba found himself feeling like a child again — yearning for home. Absolutely disgusting in his opinion, yet only natural after ten years of smiles, hunting packs, a full belly, and fellow apes who cared for him; where two loved him just as much as he loved them.

Homesickness was an ache far deeper than any scar on his body and annoyingly more debilitating than a useless eye.

You are so focused on driving that you fail to notice him side-eying you with his usual snarl. He blames you for this. Being alive and on the run with a human is a nightmare he never knew could exist. Being dead and free of this damned life feels like a dream out of his reach, yet also a relief in a way….being alive would not be so bad if he could only be with other apes. It does not even have to be family, strangers would not be bad. He could take control of their band and become alpha easily. Since his one-on-one with Caesar — whose body was arguably superior from being the first changed by the original serum — Koba had become twice as confident, believing he would have won if not for the wavering tower they fought on. The only other ape he’d ever have trouble fighting was Rocket, but the ex-alpha’s fatal flaw was his mind — weak compared to his brute force. And if there was one area Koba flourished in besides physical poweress, it was his tactical thinking. 

He considers it would be easy to be rid of you with how smart he is. He’s already kept you on your toes with scare tactics, yet you stay. It seems you are not as dumb as he would believe, if anything you are  _ adapting _ . In the beginning you had hesitated to approach when he awoke e and able to send death glares. His raspy, broken words had once made you so upset, you would seek sanctuary on the upper floor where you slept. Now though, you either ignore him or proclaim your own cruel words as if it were a game — one that he did like to play, but only when it was him alone and winning. It was hardly satisfying if his target was fighting back, and fighting you did with all the nonchalance you could muster despite his canines snapping at you.

Slouching in his seat, Koba crossed his arms. To hell with you, and to hell with humans in general.

The scenery begins to melt into a city, with tall buildings coming into view and more just on the horizon. He doesn’t care where you’ve taken him, just as long as there is somewhere you both can rest and eat. A sigh escapes your lips, heavy with obvious relief, so he assumes this is somewhere you know.

“Well….I think I went down a wrong freeway...or something.” Your hesitation annoys him. 

“Wish we had a map….”

The car continues forward, driving deeper into wherever you have driven. Fortunately you made it before sundown, the bright yellow and orange rays descending from above illuminating the path. No lights guides the truck, leaving the both of you to keep your eyes peeled. Koba does not sit up, favoring staying low as huddled forms of humans begin to appear. They sit on crates and plastic chairs around lit garbage cans. Each one, group or individual, have a tent, or something akin to one that obviously are homes. A majority of what little there were of them lift their eyes to watch as you drive by, while others merely cough and tend to their fires. 

“God, it looks like shit.” You mutter. 

Koba agrees wholly, but where you sound horrified, he feels smug. There are so few here, and he knows the rest are dead, or on the brink of dying. The less humans the better is his belief. 

The truck slowly comes to a halt, Koba turning his head to see what is happening. You crank down the window and lean out of it, which he knows is a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am, where is this?”

An older woman bundled up in a blanket turns around, setting her deep-set eyes on you. “San Jose.”

“No way…” You lean out more, turning your head all around as if you can not believe it; he understands why it's so shocking — San Francisco had been  _ far  _ better before he had led an invasion on it. The street lamps and various store windows are shattered, and whatever had been inside the latter was empty; the floor littered with the broken glass that he knows is not good for the car tires; trash blew in the wind, no one picking it up to throw in a trash (if any were not on fire that is); and there is a mixture of rats and roaches dancing on the streets. Koba knows this is unsanitary, he had learned so as a child on a leash, and in big rooms where humans rolled around little black boxes to point towards him. These people are living in their filth, like wild animals.

“last I heard it hadn’t been this bad.” Your jaw drops.

The woman leans over to the side, and Koba knows her narrowed eyes are on him. If he thought  _ his _ glare was deadly,  _ her’s _ was killer. 

She lifts a bony hand and points to him, turning your gaze and causing you to lean back. “ _ It’s _ numbers weren’t that large back then. Now here we are, murdering each other for what little food there is.”

Grinning with all his teeth to see is not what the situation needs, but Koba does it anyway. The same smile that sent the scientists backing away. The one that even unnerved his fellow apes and would have sent them away had they not known him. He knows you hate it, but used to it now. You return it with a scoff and a shake of your head. When you turn your attention back to the other human, your voice is different, reminding him of how the humans used to talk to him as a child.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Thanks for the information.” You look ready to drive off, but not before the slams a hand over the rolled down window.

“Get out of here while you can, and take that damned ape with you.”

Then the woman is gone, back turned to you both and hands raised over the fire. 

Koba’s grin lifts a bit more, content with how it ended and how uncomfortable you are. The car lurches forward, bringing more eyes on you both as you once again continue down the dirty streets. You don't spare a glance at him, focused on what lies ahead. 

You  _ do _ speak though, not kindly either like you were with the other woman. “You’re an ass.”

He snickers — an airy sound with a few grunts. The look of exasperation on your face is what he enjoys, because if you are going to stay by his side like a ‘ _ good little doctor’ _ , then he is going to at least have fun. A dead human would be ideal, but having one to toy with can be just as good until he can feel safe with acting on his plans.

There’s an alleyway between two buildings of brick that is fortunately not occupied. One is tall and there is an electronic sign that is left blank without power; the other is shorter with a large window broken to pieces on the floor and flyers lay dirty in the gutter. Koba eyes the silhouette picture of a human woman in a dress being lifted into the air by what he guesses is a human man. In big, bold letters are the words ‘class’ and ‘dancing’ — an activity he nor any ape in the colony ever partook in, or even understood. The picture piques his interest, but also raises confusion. He wants to lean out the car and grab one of them as The Babe slowly enters the open space between bot buildings, but his injuries would not allow it; he also does not want to be seen doing so, because it sounds ridiculous to him to want something so stupid. 

“Ok, we’re resting here for tonight.” You turn the car off and set your window to be open a crack.

The ape slowly turns his attention to you, and away from his wandering mind.

“Before I go secure the truck bed, do you need any help?” He knows you mean with getting him to his feet and leaning somewhere to relieve himself. He looks out his own window to observe the situation, only to shake his head. The wall across from him is not too far, allowing him to hold onto the car door so he can stretch an arm towards the brick wall. He does so as you hop out, causing a commotion behind the truck, enough so that he nearly loses his grip on the door. It hurts like a bitch with or without you shaking the entire vehicle by jumping and walking on it’s back — rearranging the bags of items you had taken for the escape. Every pull of his muscles for even the small of tasks (like sitting up or turning to swing his feet out the door) stings. His stitches are tightly drawn and the flesh making good progress in healing, but every one of them still feels so  _ raw _ . His bones are also mending, taking their sweet time despite all the nothing he did back in the house. Fat help laying down for weeks on end did.

When you are both back in your seats, you open up the backpack now in your lap. It wasn’t there earlier, so he assumes you took it from the back. He looks out the back window, seeing that you also put a black top over the truck’s bed, like a lid to a bowl.

“Here, it’s lukewarm, but it’s something.” And you spin the top off a water-flask. He can smell the vegetables within, and the heavy smell of broth they are soaking in. You’ve prepared the leftovers from that morning it seems before the both of you loaded up into the car. 

He doesn’t want to say it, but that was smart on your part, which is beneficial for him in the end.

Accepting the lid now filled with soup, Koba takes a sip. You on the other hand do so on the flask itself — having the strength to hold it up without trouble. From then on it’s silent as you both sit there in The Babe, amongst the destruction that was once a bustling city. The sun falls below the horizon of skyscrapers and mountains, leaving only the car’s light that he watches you click on. 

“This was a big hub for businesses in California. Now it’s one of the million casualties of the Simian apocalypse.” You don’t face him, only stare forwards where more buildings lay and wandering civilians go about the night; only the glow from trash can fires light their way.

Koba finishes off his soup, lifting it for more. You oblige, but he can see your mind is preoccupied.

That’s how it is on the first night of traveling, and Koba frowns, knowing only more is soon to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Do You Know The Way To San Jose ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnzTgUc5ycc)


	5. Chapter 5

The door opening and whole car shaking wakes you up. You do nothing, allowing yourself a few seconds to enter complete consciousness, but you know in the back of your head it’s Koba hopping out. You’re not sure why and can not find yourself to care. If he’s going to take his chances trying to leave, so be it, though even in your grogginess you doubt it. That would be a stupid idea with what happened yesterday, and Koba isn’t stupid, that you came to know from the weeks of taking care of him. The way he plots ways to attempt scaring you off is not possible for anyone — even a human — to do with anything  _ but _ a brilliant mind. His plans are elaborate and done so well, something you have never seen anyone else enact so well. 

You are right too, because in a few seconds he’s hopping back in the car. You turn to face him as he pulls the door shut. He doesn’t look to you, only ahead through the windshield without an expression. In those silent moments you both just breathe, two beings on the run from the possible violence only hours away. The only sound is a gust of cold winter air, loud and strong enough to lift trash off the floor. With that, a pink paper hits the window, taking both of your attention — his an abrupt turn of the neck, yours a lazy roll of the head. 

It’s a flyer for a dance class with two silhouettes of a man and woman dancing, which is odd. It has been a decade since the Simian Flu broke out, everything had quickly shut down in those initial weeks. So how or why did these useless papers survive? They should have been used for fire fodder rather than littering the floor, or at least crumbled away. You turn to Koba just as he turns to you, looking at one another with nothing to show or say. What else is there to do? You pull your seat up from it’s recline, roll down your window, and lean out to grab the flyer. You toss it aside in the car, then get comfy for the drive.

It’s a quick decision to drive around a bit, just in case someone has anything to sell out on display. If Koba has anything to say about it (perhaps that you’re wasting time), well he keeps it to himself. Even if he did decide to speak up, you wouldn’t care anyways.

You ease the car under an archway, unsure what it may have said. The words etched atop are in ruins, with only one word of few remaining letters you can barely make out. The Babe treads over a drive-way, and soon overgrown grass and vines, the latter stretching over the stone arch and half-standing buildings. ‘Versity’ is what you read, not making any sense. It’s only as the car makes it way further in do you realize what this area is, and you marvel at the beauty the area has become. 

Nature has completely taken over, creating something closer to a small jungle than a place of learning. Yes, when you were searching for a university to attend after highschool, this one had been on your top ten. It’s funny, because you haven’t thought much of that time, but in the end it doesn’t matter— not with the past decade having passed. Going to college, not going to college, in another couple of years it may as well be a fairytale to have gone to a place of higher learning — or most likely a confusing nightmare everyone had to put up with.

The truck drives on over the valley of tall grass, snapping fallen branches from the untamed Elm trees, and avoiding wild flocks of geese that soar high when they hear the engine.

“This is where we went to learn more. There’s kindergarten, middle, or junior depending on where you're from, then highschool, and finally this: College.” You absently explain to your uninterested companion. Or perhaps he  _ is  _ a little interested as he sits up a little straighter. Koba peers through his window where his reflection peers back: eyes scrutinizing with their typical derision.

“At least, that’s how America does it. The other countries, like Europe, do it differently. It’s really cool.” Whether or not you Know how other educational systems work beyond where you currently travel does not matter as noted before. The thought of it makes you sad, because if there are no schools, then learning from past mistakes will be hard. Yet on the other hand...perhaps that will just make getting an education all the easier with no long and pricey processes to go through.

_ Maybe there will be open lectures to listen to for anyone, _ you muse. 

You fail to look through the side view and rear view mirrors, thus not realizing that eyes are on the truck. People you had failed to see rise from the grass, or in ruined buildings with no glass covering the windows. Koba grunts for your attention and you see his eyes have grown wide, flashing to and fro beyond the windows. It is then you mimic him, finally understanding why. While you were lost in thoughts,  _ he _ wasn’t. The ape may have only one good eye, but that does not mean he is completely blind nor dense.

You speed up, just like your heart rate. Your Knuckles begin turning white, trying your damned hardest to not let your sweating palms slip off the wheel. Koba braces himself with one hand on the door and the other curled around the seat’s side, doing his own damned hardest to not hit his head on the roof or be thrown out of his seat. 

The tall grass becomes an obstacle because it’s obscuring your view. Every drive forward parts the greenery, putting you on edge in fear someone will pop up out of nowhere. When that does happen though, it’s when a body slams onto the hood. Knife in their mouth, they’re a site worthy of your scream and Koba’s screech; a deafening sound that makes your heart leap out of your throat. You stop The Babe and the body goes flying backwards into the thick grass, and the sound of claws scratch on the dashboard. 

You put metal to the pedal to make a sharp turn away, not caring to run over who you hit. You don’t want to mindlessly kill out here, despite knowing you need to. You’ve made a handful of self-defense kills, but even then they lay heavy on your shoulders. Koba doesn’t know that though, and you don’t plan to tell him. If anything he probably has already deduced you are no born killer and is going to give you shit for not running that person over. You frown, shaking as the card hits over gravel and flattens grass.

“Stop scratching up the interior like an  _ animal _ .” 

The ape hisses at you — hisses! His canines are bared too, but you pay them no heed. More bodies and weapons have made themselves known, yelling obscenities at you and throwing whatever they can at The Babe; rocks, shoes, bullets, sticks. The only thing on your mind is escape, praying to the heavens above that an exit will make itself known. You don’t want to even think about the work you’ll have to do on the truck  _ if  _ you make it out. 

“There!” A large finger points to another archway coming into view. You don’t know how it’s possible, yet The Babe kicks into a new high gear, racing certain death towards the exit.

You literally fly out, off and away from the college campus, landing with a loud slam to the street. You keep speeding the hell out of there — away from San Jose and what is left of it’s people who continue to show up. More faces, each angrier than the last, appear all around you. Dodging them is difficult, jolting you and Koba all of your seats. You don’t even notice when everything becomes clear, only seeing the blurs of buildings turn into the walls of the highway — empty of anything but rusting skeletons that were once cars.

Only when a heavy hand lays an iron grip on your shoulder do you finally hit the brakes. Two bodies jerk forward, and so does the entire frame on wheels. You stare ahead at the road, mind muddled yet also empty. The adrenaline is dwindling down, leaving you lost. There’s only the endless blacktop, hazy under the hot sun in your eyes. For the moment it feels like you're not even there, merely a spectator at a wheel while gagging fills the air.

That’s when the sting of tears hit the corners of your eyes without any warning. Everything comes full force, built up in the escape from the city. It’s a ball of nerves, tangling and tightening around your heart. Those faces, so demented in animalistic snarls, spittle and somehow foam falling from their ugly lips with every scream of curses. They were trying to kill you, attempting to steal The Babe and what belongings you own. Wanting to  _ kill _ Koba for merely existing.

Turning your eyes to him you see he has the truck leaning to his side as he leans out the window with his heavy body. His entire back heaves as he wretches, loud and disgusting, almost enough to make you want to do the same were you not having an episode of your own. You realize he had rolled the window down, now remembering the scramble to press the lock button during the chase that has kept him from throwing the door open. 

What is left of your kindness for him begs you to reach a hand to rub his back, but you don’t. The tears burn hotter than boiling water down your cheeks, pouring heavily to the point they drip instantly off your jaw and chin. The sobs wrack you so hard it’s like being rattle from your very bones. It aches like nothing you’ve ever felt before. No break-up between you and your best buddy or partner; no scolding from a parent or employer; none of that can compare to what has just happened.

Those people — your fellow humans — were trying to kill you. They were ready to point a gun to your head and pull the trigger. There were even some with knives, pointing those sharp tips towards you, hoping to cut you open and let you bleed to death. The evidence is all over the car too, noticeably in the cracks and small shattering on the windows. Your own kin, no better than dogs on the streets ready to kill for their next meal.

Koba has finished vomiting, the truck creaking as he settles in his seat, evening the weight distribution. He doesn’t say anything, only glancing your way while he wipes an arm across his mouth and his shoulders still heaving from the exertion. He looks like shit, face and fur pale somehow. You spot the glisten of tears at the corners of his eyes too, but you don’t know if he was crying or if its from heaving.

You're doing your damned hardest not to cry out like a child, but a few wails escape. You turn to lay your head atop the wheel and let yourself grieve, but for what you haven’t much of a clue. All you know is that you are alive, and soon must be on your way. Both you and koba — human and ape — yourselves to the aftermath of almost dying. Hot tears and bitter stomach acid the only rewards for surviving. 

And that’s how your first morning of being on the road begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone were curious: chapters are at the least 5 pages long, and each place reader and koba end up at will have atleast two chapters.  
> I have a few ideas of places they'll go and what happens while driving there.


End file.
